Down The Rabbit Hole
by Manic Penguin
Summary: John, while supervising an archaeology team, runs afoul of an artifact that turns his world inside out and upside down.
1. Chapter 1

**_DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE_**

_This is a little different from what I`ve written for Atlantis before. A little darker, a little angstier, and a little... well, a few other things, too._

_I`m not posting a summery because that would give away too much. So this is all you get:_

_John, while supervising an archaeology team, runs afoul of an artifact that turns his world inside out and upside down._

* * *

"Okay, seriously, what did we do to warrant this crap assignment?" John groused.

"I believe that Doctor Weir said that our team was next on a rotation for this duty, Colonel Sheppard, and that it would be good for us to experience a simple, peaceful mission for a change," Teyla said.

"I'm usually able to talk us out of this kind of thing," John whined. "Nothing worked this time. Elizabeth wouldn't budge."

Teyla smiled softly. "This planet is quite beautiful. Would it not be possible to simply enjoy the respite from battle?"

"Hey, I'm all for taking a break from the usual recon and whatnot, and if the geek squad is right the Wraith haven't been here since they wiped everyone out—no people, no reason to come back. But couldn't there at least be a beach or something instead just a bunch of ruins and some trees? We get enough of this on every other mission."

Cocking her head to one side slightly, Teyla offered up a tiny smile of hope. "If the Wraith truly believe this planet to be void of human life this planet could be a viable backup for the Alpha Site," Teyla pointed out.

"I know, but, again, there's a difference between scouting for Beta Sites and babysitting Earth's archaeological elite," John replied.

Teyla bit back a comment about the notable exception of one Doctor Daniel Jackson who had been in an ill-timed coma—though Teyla honestly could not think of a _good_ time to be in a coma—when the **Daedalus** left Earth with the Lantian Senior Staff and the new compliment of scientists and military types.

Elizabeth had sung the praises of the archaeologist, his brilliant mind, his compassion, his quick but dry wit, his patience, and (one girls poker night where too many glasses of Athosian ale had been thrown back) his beautiful body and soulful blue eyes, and Teyla had been curious about both the man and the paradoxical knowledge he held. Battle-trained and scarred, a tactical mind that, while more adept at negotiation and peace, could switch to war in a heartbeat. A scientist who knew of cultures and people so far removed from Teyla's own life that she longed to hear all the fantastic details. And, to top it off, he was also a former Ancestor twice over, though only briefly.

However, as much as Teyla wanted to meet Doctor Daniel Jackson, and Elizabeth wanted her friend and ally to join her on Atlantis, John had made it very clear that he did not want to hear another word about the brilliant archaeologist.

If she had felt suicidal Teyla would have said something to John about his obvious jealousy but, considering he had a P-90 in his hands and, considering his current mood, Teyla decided that it would be wise to hold her tongue on all things that could potentially be tied to Daniel Jackson.

Unfortunately the fact that they were currently supervising an archaeological team made talk of Daniel Jackson and his expertise fairly prevalent. He was something of a celebrity, it seemed, to the other archaeologists. Not to mention that he had trained more than half of them in off-world protocols and other things that were necessary for civilians to deal with the military effectively, which, while helpful for John, was also a reminder of the mythic man that seemed to be all that anyone talked about of late.

"All I want right now is to get away from these dirt-covered scientists," John said, tearing Teyla away from her musings. "Major Lorne is being released from the Infirmary today, McKay and Zelenka are futzing with something they know nothing about, and there is a wild animal terrorizing _your people_ on the Mainland that Halling wants us to take a look into it since the Athosian hunting parties haven't had any luck hunting it down."

Though she wasn't entirely sure what _futzing _was, Teyla nodded. "You do have responsibilities back on Atlantis, this is true. However, Major Lorne is healing well and will be back to duty in only a few days, and you can see him as soon as we return to Atlantis. Doctor Weir assured us that she was going to keep an extra close eye on Doctors McKay and Zelenka. And Ronan is on the Mainland with Sergeants Livingstrom and Ames hunting the beast," she reminded him. "If there are any problems that require your attention Atlantis will contact us immediately," she added when he didn't look altogether convinced that he wasn't shirking his duties back home by being on another planet half a galaxy away with scientists who were getting excited over things that, she knew, to him, looked a lot like _rocks._

"Teyla, are you trying to tell me to chill out?" John asked, his expression and tone letting his teammate know that he was more amused than anything else.

Smiling serenely Teyla shrugged.

John was about to speak again when his radio crackled to life. _"Colonel Sheppard," _one of the archaeologists—John honestly couldn't remember which one it was, nor did he really care—called over the radio, _"we've found some caves about five minutes due south of the ruins. You said to let you know if we found anything like this so you could check it out first."_

Sighing, John rubbed his hand down his face. Though he had to give the archaeologist credit for following orders—many of the science teams would have just gone right in, heedless of the potential for danger, their attention only on what could be just beyond their reach—John still wished he was anywhere but M7P-286. "I'm on my way. No one goes inside until I've cleared the caves," John replied over the radio. He also had to, begrudgingly, give the archaeologist credit for telling him the direction and approximate distance he should expect to go; a lot of science teams that John had worked with would just say that they had found something and to come quick, forgetting that, though John and the other military members of the Atlantis expedition were good at their jobs, they weren't psychic.

"Do you wish for me to assist you?" Teyla asked. To be honest, though she was enjoying the respite from war, she was growing slightly restless.

"No. Stay here. Keep an eye on the 'Gate," John said. He sighed again. "I hate archaeology," he muttered as he headed south toward the caves.

It was less than a three-minute walk from the ruins to the caves, and when John got there he found three archaeologists waiting outside. "This is the cave system you found?" John frowned, examining the mouth of the 'cave' carefully. "The people of Munchkin-Land would have a hard time standing up in there."

"We shone a light inside. The ceiling gets higher a few feet in," one of the archaeologists, Doctor Wu, John remembered, said.

"Oh. Good," John said. "You didn't go inside, did you?" he asked, watching the archaeologists carefully for any hint of a lie.

"No, sir," the man who had contacted John on the radio, Doctor Brandt, John recalled, said. "Doctor Paretsky discovered the cave while we were working our way out from the ruins and we tried to get as much light inside as possible to see if it was worth looking around in at all. There are some things that we would like to check out, but, well, we all know what can happen if we just go into an alien cave without someone checking it out first. When we were training for off-world clearance at the SGC Doctor Jackson was very clear on the protocols for situations like this."

"Of course he was," John muttered. "Alright. Stay put. I'll be in touch," he said before heading into the cave.

John moved through the cave slowly, the flashlight of his P-90 the only source of light, the cave being more of a tunnel than anything else, and once he went around the first few curves the daylight became nothing but a memory. Every so often he would find an artefact that he was sure would mean more giddy geekasms, but so far he hadn't seen anything that indicated anything or anyone had been in the tunnel for years, at least a couple of decades, John figured, possibly more, though it was hard to tell based solely on the thickness of the dust that blanketed every surface. Maybe the guys outside could _**CSI: Pegasus **_something out of it, but the Air Force had never trained him in anything like that. And, really, all he cared about was that there hadn't been activity in the tunnel of late.

The ground was growing progressively uneven and rocky, and John was finding it more and more difficult to keep his balance. Every few feet he stumbled over an unseen rock or slipped in the loose gravel, often finding himself reaching out for a nearby wall to help stabilize himself.

After stabilizing himself on the side wall John got on his radio, having gone as far as he could, the tunnel having collapsed up ahead leaving John wondering about structural integrity rather than hostiles.

"Brandt, Paretsky, Wu. This is Sheppard. The tunnel dead-ends about half a mile in, but it is secure and chock full of artefacts. Watch your footing. Over."

John waited a minute, then, after getting no response, he decided to head back toward the entrance, having been in many structures and cave systems that interfered with radio signals. There hadn't been any signs of interference upon first glance at the planet, but John knew that that didn't mean anything. He tried to raise the archaeologist on the radio a few times on his way back out, but, again, he got nothing.

When John made it out of the cave and found that, not only were the three PhD's gone, but all of their equipment as well—and John knew how heavy some of that stuff was and how difficult to transport over uneven terrain most of those cases were. They had had to bring most of that stuff through on the FRED—the strange acronym that John still didn't understand clearly emblazoned on the large storage-and-transport device—and Ronan had had to join them for a few hours to help lug a lot of the gear around as it ended up being too heavy and cumbersome for any normal-sized person to carry over any significant distance (meaning, in truth, more than a few yards) without taking long breaks to rest.

Activating his radio again, John began calling for anyone to respond, but no one answered him.

Cursing aloud John began walking toward the ruins, the weak hope that his people were there the only thing keeping him from immediately leaping to the theory that a Wraith Dart had swept everyone he was on M7P-286 to protect. He knew that if that was the case it was unlikely that Teyla, Brandt, Wu, or Paretski, as well as Doctors Donaldson, Jones, Jang and Wilson who were at the ruins would ever been seen again. The Wratih were catching on to the fact that the Lantian settlers knew how to track them through the Stargate system, but only if they didn't go through a 'Gate in between the pick-up planet and their home base. Rondey and Zelenka had all but mastered tracking through one Stargate, but adding even one other brought so many variables into the equation that there was just too much time lapsing between the abductions and any good guess at where the Wraith had taken their people.

There was no one at the ruins, no sign that there had been anyone there in ages. The only footprints that John could detect in the fresh mud were from John's own standard issue boots, and the trail only led from the caves to where he was standing at that exact moment in the middle of the circle of ruins.

"What the hell is going on here?" John said aloud.

Though he expected it, the lack of response was disheartening.

After going over every inch of the area that the science teams had been in—despite their desperate pleas for nothing to be touched or left out of place, their equipment had left serious imprints on the ground—and finding no sign of anyone having been on the planet in the past few hours, John, confused and more than a little worried, double-timed it back to the Stargate and dialled Atlantis.

* * *

The Stargate began to dial in, and Chuck called out the standard announcement of _incoming wormhole _to get the attention of whoever was in charge of the Control Room at the moment. Daniel came out of his office and ordered the shield raised—there were no teams off-world at the moment, the stand down order from Earth having essentially grounded both the facility in the Milky Way Galaxy and the one in the Pegasus Galaxy—but that couldn't stop people from dialling in.

The plume of the unstable event horizon burst forth before regulating itself. Chuck immediately put up the shield and turned his attention to the laptop that recorded whether anything was coming through the wormhole or not. "Uh… sir? You may want to take a look at this," Chuck said, vacating his chair to allow Daniel to sit in front of the computer screen. "What do we do? I mean, has this ever happened before?" he asked.

Daniel shook his head. "Get a full security squadron to the Gateroom. Now!" he ordered and Chuck immediately complied, the security forces spilling into the Gateroom, weapons raised and aimed at the active Stargate. "Lower the shield," Daniel ordered, much more calmly this time, as he moved to descend the stairs down to the main level of the Gateroom. Chuck did so, and a few seconds later a very familiar man walked through the event horizon.

Upon seeing all the weapons that were trained on him, the man shouted, "What the hell is going on here?"

Off to one side Colonel Lorne fired off one shot with a Zat gun, hitting the newcomer with perfect accuracy.

* * *

_End of Chapter One_

* * *

_This was my annual birthday present to myself. I`ve been out of the game for a while and I`m trying to get back into the swing of things here and on my livejornal (which isn`t much right now, though there are some pics and stories that have also been posted here that I`ve reposted there. Eventually the adult content of stories (like this one, possibly, and CONNECTIONS and another epic I`m working on that needs a new title—those will go there while this site gets the T rated versions. Anyway... I`m 24 today. I took a page from Martin Gero`s book and gave the planet (moon, actually, which is why it`s M not P) my initials and birthdate. M72-P86. Manic seventh-month-second-day Penguin (nineteen)eighty-six. It also works with my actual initials. My beta`s, too._

_Anyway, I`ve decided to post this in the hopes that it will bring back my Atlantis muse, who has taken a decidedly different passion lately in Glee and The Good Wife and everything Aaron Sorkin`s ever put on television. My muse, apparently, has eclectic tastes, just like me._


	2. Chapter 2

DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE - CHAPTER TWO

* * *

When John woke up he was in a room—one he wasn't used to viewing from the inside of the thick louvered bars—lying awkwardly on the floor, as if his body had simply been tossed in and allowed to fall as it landed. His whole body ached and his head was throbbing in time with his heart. After mentally assessing his body for other injuries—other than the encore presentation of _Stomp _that was running on a loop through his head and some fuzziness to his eyesight that confirmed his initial self-diagnosis of a concussion (he'd had enough to know the symptoms) there didn't seem to be any further injuries. No broken bones, sprains or strains, and none of his clothes were sticking uncomfortably to his skin the way they tended to when he was bleeding beneath the fabric. The concussion didn't seem too bad, he decided—no nausea so far, and, lying still, no dizziness.

As sure as he could be that he wasn't going to awaken other injuries by doing so, John let out a heavy sigh and struggled to sit up. That set off a whole new set of pains, not to mention the intense dizziness, and he knew, from the selection of symptoms he was experiencing at that moment, that his concussion was worse than he'd thought while lying flat on his back. He slid back along the floor until his back hit the bench where their prisoners—usually Wraith, but there was that Sora chick for a while, too—would sit in between interrogations. He didn't even consider attempting to stand—the bench was the only thing in the room that he could use for leverage that wasn't protected by a force field, which, if he was locked up, he assumed had been activated.

"What the fuck is going on around here?" John groaned, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes in an attempt to make the room stop spinning around him like a Tilt-A-Whirl on Acid.

"That's what I want to know," a bespeckled man said, his voice low and dangerous. "Who are you? How did you get Major Sheppard's IDC? And for that matter, how did you get his face?"

Physical discomfort pushed aside for the moment, John decided to turn his full attention to the man who was clearly in charge of the situation. He could deal with the concussion and everything else after he got some answers. "Who are you?" John demanded in return. "Where is Doctor Weir?" he asked, growing agitated. Glasses' left eye twitched, sometime that John filed away for later reference. John tried to sit up straighter and cringed at the residual pain from the weapon he had been blasted with. "And what the hell did you guys hit me with?"

After sharing a look with a burly Marine—one that John didn't recognize as one of his men—Glasses spoke. "My name is Doctor Daniel Jackson; I'm the leader of this facility. I've answered your first question, now answer mine."

"My first question was 'what the hell is going on here' but we're making progress, so I'll go with it," John said, getting to his feet using sheer frustration to power him—and a little fury that was slowly building up inside of him. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard—I haven't been a Major for months. I used _my_ IDC and this is _my _face." He took a step toward the thick bars of the cell he had awakened in. "Now, where is Doctor Elizabeth Weir?"

Jackson's left eye twitched again, but other than that he didn't react to John's question.

"Where is Doctor Elizabeth Weir?" John repeated, his tone indicating that, cell or no cell, force field or no force field, he was going to get an answer to his question.

"As far away from _you_ as possible," Jackson said stonily. He turned to one of the guards. "I want no less than ten men here until the SGE gets back to us. No one in or out unless I say so."

"SGE?" John muttered, too thrown by the random vowel in the place of the familiar consonant to bother keeping his confusion with the growing number of discrepancies between the Atlantis he knew and the one that he was currently incarcerated in. He looked at the archaeologist, trying to sort through the thousands of thoughts and questions that were racing through his head. The most pressing of which was the next question he asked.

"Why is Elizabeth 'as far away from me as possible'?"

After the expected eye-twitch Jackson shot John a harsh look before turning and leaving the brig.

"I knew I wouldn't like that guy," John muttered darkly.

* * *

"I don't know what to tell you, Daniel. His DNA is an exact match. His scans all match the ones I have on file for Major Sheppard. Even his ATA strength is exactly the same, which, as you know, is as unique a reading as there gets. Every test that I've run confirms that the man in the brig is John Sheppard," Doctor Carolyn Mitchell, MD, said, handing a data pad to Daniel. She twisted her wedding ring around her finger nervously; hesitant to bring up what she knew was a sensitive subject for Daniel. "When do we tell Doctor Weir?"

"Why would we tell Elizabeth anything about this?" Daniel replied as he scanned the report Carolyn had prepared for him.

Carolyn stared at the archaeologist incredulously. "Because that's her husband, Daniel, and she deserves to know that he's alive!"

Daniel looked at Carolyn with a fierce look of anger. "No one is going to tell Elizabeth _anything_ about this," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Make sure that everyone understands that," he added as he moved to take a seat behind the glass table that served as a desk for the leader of the expedition.

Knowing that arguing would only make her life more difficult, Carolyn accepted the unvoiced dismissal. "I would like to run a few more tests on… the prisoner," she said carefully.

Nodding absently, Daniel activated his radio. "Major Lockmoore, Doctor Mitchell will be down shortly to examine the prisoner further."

The Major's response crackled through Daniel's headset. _"Understood, sir._"

"You're clear," Daniel said to Carolyn. "Be careful."

Carolyn nodded before leaving the office, cutting through the control room and making a beeline for the nearest transporter. After stopping by the Infirmary to pick up some equipment Carolyn headed to the brig.

"You want us to knock 'em out for ya, doc?" one of the Marines asked, taking, Carolyn thought, entirely too much pleasure in the thought of shooting the man who wore his former CO's face.

"No, Lieutenant. I need him conscious for this round of tests," Carolyn said as icily as possible. "Open the cell," she ordered. When the guard at the locking controls hesitated Carolyn called upon every memory of watching her father in command. "_Now_, Sergeant," she said firmly.

"You make one move and we'll open fire," Major Lockmoore, the senior officer on duty in the brig at the moment, growled at Sheppard who simply raised an eyebrow in response.

The Lieutenant unlocked the cell and immediately every weapon in the outer area of the brig was pointed at John who was sitting on the floor near the back of the large cell. Without hesitation Carolyn entered the cell and ordered for the door to be locked again.

That order was obeyed without hesitation.

"You obviously trust me more than everyone else here," John commented as Carolyn began setting up a piece of equipment that he didn't recognize. "Either that, or you don't care anymore and are willing to put your life on the line with the 'dangerous prisoner'."

Carolyn quirked a smile at John. "Little from Column A, little from Column B," she replied before turning on the device. A force shield spread out, protecting herself and John from the trigger-happy SF's. The SF's wouldn't think anything of the shield because Carolyn had always been very clear on maintaining doctor-patient confidentially, even with prisoners. "Do you know who I am?" she asked.

John frowned at Carolyn for a moment before he realized why she seemed so familiar. "You're… the doctor. General Landry's daughter. Right?" he said. Carolyn nodded, though she didn't like being known as the General's daughter. It was why, when she got married two years earlier, she had had no problem changing her name from Landry to her husbands surname. "I'm sorry, I can't remember your name," he added, genuinely apologetic.

"Carolyn Mitchell," she said, not at all offended. "You've always called me Carolyn." Though she didn't know for sure she suspected that there were some problems cropping up from the quite large gash on the back of John's skull, caused by the edge of the steps leading up to the 'Gate platform after being hit by a Zat'ni'katel blast. "What's the last thing you remember?" John glanced at the group of ten Marines—he only recognized two of them as his own people—and then looked at Carolyn questioningly. "The force shield I set up will keep their bullets out and our voices in," she said reassuringly. "One of Colonel Carter's supposedly _simpler _brilliant ideas."

"Cool," John commented. "Okay, the last thing I remember… I was on M7P-286 supervising an archaeological team. I went into a cave to check it out. It was clear. I tried to contact the rock-squad to tell them that the cave was secure, but I got nothing in response. I headed back out, figuring it was just the cave or something screwing with my radio, but when I got out there was no trace of my people ever having been there. I checked the area as thoroughly as possible without a Jumper but I came up empty so I came back to Atlantis and… next thing I know I'm locked up with Jackson telling me that Elizabeth is being kept as far away from me as possible and everything is screwed up… and I thought your name was Lam."

"Lam is my maiden name. Mitchell is my married name," Carolyn said softly.

"Mitchell… as in Cameron Mitchell?" John asked.

Carolyn nodded. "You were the best man at our wedding, John." Then, not wanting to break down (as she was still quite apt to do whenever thinking about Cam for extended periods of time) Carolyn moved on. "You said you were on M7P…?"

"286. Deserted forest planet. Lots of ruins and artefacts that mean absolutely nothing to me but had the people I was protecting practically salivating," John said.

Nodding as she made mental notes of everything that John said, Carolyn pulled on a pair of latex gloves. "Could you put your hands down, palms flat on the floor?" she requested. John looked up at her in confusion. "I want to check your head wound and, as much as I trust you, these guys don't and, for the moment, we've got to put on a bit of a show." John still didn't look all that convinced so Carolyn continued. "The only way I'll be able to help you sort this whole mess out is if I maintain access to you. And that won't happen if they don't think I'm safe in here—whether they think you're going to physically harm me or somehow turn me rogue or something, it doesn't matter. You need an ally here, John, and right now I'm the only one willing to listen."

"Fair enough," John said as he did as he was told, moving slow enough that the guards were reassured that he wasn't trying anything. "What did they hit me with, anyway? Felt like I'd stuck a fork in a light socket."

"That's pretty accurate, actually," Carolyn said as she began gently probing the wound. "The weapon's called a Zat'ni'katel—a Zat gun. It's Goa'uld design."

John frowned. "But Zat's don't work on the Wraith."

Pausing in her examination Carolyn's brow furrowed in confusion. "The Wraith?"

"Yeah. The Wraith. Tall. Long hair. Pasty complexion. Suck the life out of people with their hands. Not exactly on my Christmas card list," John said.

"No, I know what the Wraith are. But… John… the Wraith have been gone for over six months."

* * *

tbc...


	3. Chapter 3

Error. Error. This does not compute. Error. Error. This does not compute. Error. Error. This does not compute. Error. Error. This does not compute.

The robotic voice of many an interactive Computer on classic _Trek _when all computers were dull and dim and at least marginally evil ran through John's head on a loop like a damaged vinyl record.

"What do you mean _gone_?" John asked, incredulous.

"Just what I said. A little over six months ago the Wraith were completely wiped out," Carolyn said. She frowned at John as she moved around him so that she was in front of him again, allowing John to sit up again. "I'm worried about your obvious memory loss. Though I supposed the simple miracle that you're alive and back in Atlantis is already more than any of us hoped for so we can work on the memory thing."

John shook his head. "What the hell are you talking about?" he asked, growing more confused and agitated with each passing minute. "It's a miracle that I'm back? I'm suffering from memory loss? What the hell is going on around here? Where are my people? What is Jackson doing here? When did you get married? And to Cam Mitchell?"

"What's wrong with Cameron?" Carolyn asked, offended.

"Nothing," John said quickly. He dragged his fingers through his hair. "Nothing around here is the way I remember it. I have no idea what's going on. It's more than a little disorientating."

Carolyn sat down on the floor in front of John. "Six months, two weeks, three days, eight hours, and forty-nine minutes ago Elizabeth authorized a mission that was supposed to be simple reconnaissance. You, Rodney McKay, Captain Aiden Ford, and Cameron left in Gate Jumper One to scout what we were told was a meeting of the major Wraith hives and turned out to be all the Wraith hives. When there was no word from you for over twenty-four hours Elizabeth sent out a second team. They found the Gate Jumper, abandoned, with a package of letters inside. The four of you wrote your goodbyes… and then went off on some harebrained suicide mission. No one in the galaxy has heard from any of you since. The SGE declared you dead after a month—they said that since we hadn't seen any sign of the Wraith since you left Atlantis it was a safe assumption that no one survived the blitz."

Tears filled Carolyn's eyes, making everything blur in front of her.

"John, if you're alive… then maybe Cameron is too," she said softly, her eyes shining with hope, something she hadn't allowed herself to feel since that fateful day that Teal'c had handed her the letter, penned in her husband's familiar scribbles, and she had broken down in the middle of the Gateroom, both from fury and sorrow, after reading Cameron's tender words of love interspersed with apologies and explanations.

Sighing heavily, John shook his head. "I don't think so, Carolyn," he said, his voice thick with regret. He wished he could help the heartbroken woman, but, if he was right, her husband was truly dead and offering her hope would only make the crash more painful later. "I think I'm starting to see what's happening here," he said, the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach growing with each passing moment. "Any way I could talk to Samantha Carter?" he asked, praying that she wasn't missing or dead like, it seemed, everyone else was.

"The **Prometheus **is due to make a supply drop today. They should be landing anytime now, really. I'll make sure Sam comes to see you," Carolyn said with a nod.

The fact that the **Prometheus** was still active only strengthened John's confidence in his belief about the situation. The fact that Samantha Carter was, apparently, making regular trips between galaxies on it made his confidence become near certainty.

"You want to fill me in?" Carolyn prodded.

"Not right now," John said after noting the intensity with which Sergeant Stackhouse was watching him—the Stackhouse that he knew could read lips, a handy skill that they had utilized on several missions. Except, he realized belatedly, Stackhouse had been killed over a year earlier by the Wraith above Atlantis, along with Markham.

"Okay," Carolyn said. "Do you need anything?"

John thought for a second and then said, "Yeah. Why the hell isn't Elizabeth in charge and why is she being kept away from me?"

Carolyn opened her mouth to answer but she shut her mouth again when she heavy outer door to the brig opened. Turning her head Carolyn cringed at the sight of the new arrival. Turning back to Face John she mouthed 'I'll be back' before standing up and going to shut off the force shield.

"Did you finish with him?" Daniel asked coolly.

"He has a pretty bad head wound that I want to keep an eye on," Carolyn said. "I'd also like to request that, when the **Prometheus** arrives Colonel Carter be brought in. Other than Doctor Weir she knows Major Sheppard the best.

Daniel nodded curtly. "Fine," he said, willing to do anything to keep Elizabeth out of the situation for as long as possible. He looked at one of the guards. "Let her out," he ordered. The guard immediately moved and unlocked the cell, pulling the door open long enough for Carolyn to leave with her equipment. Once she was out of the cell the door was slammed shut again and the standard shield between the bars was reactivated.

* * *

"Did you find out what you wanted to?" Daniel asked.

Carolyn frowned. "What?"

"Look, Mitchell was a friend of mine, too. If Sheppard can come back it stands to reason that Mitchell might still be out there. And McKay. And Ford. But we've run into beings that can make you see what they want you to see. The Reaol, for example."

"The Reaol are in the Milky Way, a generation away from extinction. And we all saw John Sheppard before anyone touched him. Plus the Reaol never mastered any form of intel gathering, let alone the kind of detailed information that John has," Carolyn said. "And no other shape-shifter we've met or even heard of can affect something as basic as DNA."

Daniel nodded, conceding the point. "Just… don't put too much faith in him, Carolyn. He was never all that reliable. Just look at what he did to Elizabeth."

"Look at what who did what to me?" Elizabeth asked, leaning against the doorframe, resting her hand on her burgeoning stomach.

"Elizabeth how many times do I have to define 'bed rest' to you before you start taking me seriously?" Carolyn said as she hurried Elizabeth into one of the chairs before helping her prop her feet up on the other.

"Sorry. I was just going a little stir-crazy and no one seems to be able to look me in the eye right now… so what's going on?" Elizabeth asked. She looked at Daniel, narrowing her eyes at the archaeologist. "Don't screw around with me on this, Jackson. I ache in places I didn't know could ache, I've been craving a freaking turkey sandwich for two weeks, I have to pee every ten minutes, and I'm still going to be pregnant for another six weeks before I'll even be able to catch a glimpse of my feet again. My husband hasn't been heard from in six months, I was stripped of my command, and for the last month I haven't been allowed to do more than shuffle between my bed and the toilet. I am quite literally two seconds from snapping here, people, and if one of you doesn't tell me what is going on in my City right this second I'm going to kick some ass. And don't think that, just because I've become a tri-plex, I won't do it, 'cause I can and I will," Elizabeth ranted.

"Elizabeth, you need to calm down. This tension isn't good for the babies," Carolyn said, taking Elizabeth's wrist and carefully checking her pulse. "Your heart is racing. I want to get you on a monitor."

"I'm fine, Carolyn, and so are Peter, Paul, and Mary," Elizabeth said.

"I thought you were going with Andrew, William, and Camille," Carolyn said as she did as thorough an examination as she could with the equipment she had and the lack of privacy the office allowed.

"That's what I was thinking four days ago. I've gone through about eight other name combos since then," Elizabeth said.

"And at this moment you've decided to go with folk singers from the '50's and '60's?" Carolyn frowned.

Elizabeth shrugged. "Either that, or Frank, Chandler, and Leslie."

"John wasn't a big fan of _Friends_, Elizabeth, so you might want to rethink those names," a new, familiar, voice said from the doorway.

"Hey, Sam," Elizabeth said with a soft smile. "You just get in?"

"With a fresh batch of baby books that have already been beamed to your bedside table," Sam answered with a nod. "I thought you were on bed rest," she added, resting an affectionate hand on Elizabeth's baby bump and smiling when she was greeted by one of the babies with a kick.

"She and I have differing opinions about what that means she's allowed to do," Carolyn frowned while checking Elizabeth's vitals as best she could given the fact that she had no equipment and a patient that kept pushing her away like a bothersome fly.

"Carolyn, if I let you take me to the Infirmary and hook me up to all the monitors you have will you at least stop this examination you're doing here before you get to the pelvic?" Elizabeth asked, only slightly amused.

"Yes, please, move this whole thing to the Infirmary," Daniel said quickly, eager to get his office back.

Carolyn rolled her eyes. "When was the last time you ate?" she asked Elizabeth.

"Half an hour ago. Salmon sandwich, an apple, and the biggest glass of milk I've ever seen. Plus all my vitamin and mineral supplements and a bottle of water. I'm doing everything right, Carolyn, but if I don't see more than the same four walls of my room for the next however many months before these three get out of my womb I'm going to go absolutely insane."

"How are they acting today?" she asked Elizabeth.

"Very much like their father," Elizabeth said with a soft smile, rubbing a hand over her belly. "I'm pretty sure the three of them are stick fighting in here. Either that or trying to golf." She cringed and looked down at her stomach. "Cheap shot, kid."

"They know that mommy isn't supposed to be walking around the City until they're ready to come out," Sam said.

Carolyn motioned for Sam to step out onto the bridge outside Daniel's office. "Can I talk to you for a second, Colonel?" the MD said. Sam nodded and followed Carolyn out, allowing the shorter woman to lead her farther from the office, well out of earshot. "What's going on? Is Elizabeth alright?" Sam asked.

"Despite refusing to give in to doctors orders, she's doing as well as possible for a woman her age and size carrying triplets," Carolyn said. "That's not what I need to talk to you about."

"Then what is it?"

* * *

TBC...


End file.
